


Boys Don't Cry (But Apparently Richie Tozier Didn't Get the Memo)

by Amuly



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Richie Tozier, Crying, Daddy Kink, Doggy Style, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Men Crying, Public Blow Jobs, Spanking, Top Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: Look, Richie's an emotionally vulnerable guy. And what with all the trauma and repression and insecurities he has around sex, it's no wonder he's been known to get... emotional. Sometimes. It's noteverytime, you know? Just... often enough.Or, 5 Times Richie Cried During Sex, and 1 Time He Didn't
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Original Male Character(s), richie tozier/manager
Comments: 75
Kudos: 739





	Boys Don't Cry (But Apparently Richie Tozier Didn't Get the Memo)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, trigger warning on here: Richie's first time, the first scene of this, is a drunken hook-up in college. I try to make pretty clear that he's intentionally drinking to "work up the courage" to bone down with the guy, and the guy is into him, but the sex is most definitely drunk, first-time sex. If that's a problem, I totally understand (usually it's a big NO from me, but go figure), know that it's very skipabble. That's the only scene that's like that in the fic.

Richie pounded his… sixth?? Seventh??... beer of the evening. His eyes were locked with the kid at the other side of the rec room, where they’d been all fucking evening. The kid that was kind of short and twinky, but with dark hair and dark eyes. The kid that’d been eyeing him up all night.

The boy that had clocked him. Like. Immediately.

Fuck, how did he know?

For that matter, how did Richie?

Richie grabbed another beer even though he was starting to feel kind of bloated and gross. He would’ve gone for shots but he hadn’t yet figured out a hard liquor that didn’t make him puke like, immediately. Maybe he should try different liquors when he wasn’t already a six-pack deep; maybe that had something to do with it. On the other hand, maybe fuck off, right? This was the real-deal college experience. Getting wasted. Hooking up.

Experimenting.

The kid slipped out to the patio when Richie was having a smoke. He gave Richie one look—how the fucking did he _know_? How was he so… so fucking _reckless_ ( _brave_ , the secret, scared heart pounding inside Richie’s chest whispered). Maybe they were more open-minded in Chicago. Maybe the kid hadn’t had it beat out of him, yet (had Richie? Couldn’t remember. Probably. It would explain the sickening fear that slid, greasy and shameful, through his bowels whenever he even had a _thought_ …).

Richie didn’t know his name. But he was another kid in college, in the dorms on the other side of the quad from Richie’s own. They kissed, and Richie kept his eyes firmly shut. If he didn’t think about it, if he didn’t look right at it, he could… It was just lips, he- it was just skin. It was just arms, it was just legs. It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t have to mean anything…

The kid turned over willingly, tilting his hips back at Richie. Richie had no idea what he was doing, was too drunk to be doing this, but, oh… With shaking hands Richie reached out and caressed the pale, skinny ass in front of him. Ran a fumbling, sloppy hand down the boy’s back, watching as he arched his spine into the touch, fingertips stuttering at the dip of the boy’s lower back.

Oh. Richie _wanted_. Oh. He wanted so _much_.

Condoms, condoms. If he knew one thing it was condoms, always condoms. Richie fumbled to put one on himself. The boy beneath him said something, passed back a bottle of lube. Richie said something back—a stupid joke, he could feel the shape of his face, the way his body tilted and tensed, like it did when he told a joke. But he couldn’t remember what it was.

Richie pushed inside and the boy was happy beneath him, fucking himself back onto Richie’s dick, moaning all the right ways. Richie’s hands were on his hips and now his eyes were open, now he couldn’t rip his eyes _away_. There was a boy beneath him, there was a boy _around_ him, he was fucking into the tight heat of this brave boy with dark hair and a snarky little smile.

Tears fell from beneath Richie’s glasses. He swore softly and stared up to the ceiling, counting backwards from a hundred.

By the time he hit zero he was shoving his limp dick back into his pants and shouting empty “I’ll call you”s over his shoulder.

Fucking Chicago night air made it feel like the tears were freezing to his cheeks.

* * *

“We’ve don’t have time for this,” Steve bitched, because Steve was always bitching.

But Richie was already half undressed, crawling onto his bed. He looked back over his shoulder at Steve.

“We’ve got fucking time; the venue’s five fucking minutes away.”

Steve was fully clothed, arms crossed at the foot of the bed. A jolt went through Richie at the sight of him, annoyed and all but tapping his watch like a cartoon version of himself. Richie had no fucking idea why that turned him on, but his dick was hard in his jeans as he slid the zipper down over it.

“Yeah, and you’re supposed to go on in fifteen.”

“Like you’re going to last more than ten minutes,” Richie snorted.

Steve started to turn away, hands held up in exasperation.

“Steve!” Richie called out, desperate. Steve turned back with a sigh. Richie dropped his eyes.

“Look, fuck, I just need to take the edge off. C’mon, you could just, fucking finger me or something-”

“I’m not going to fucking rim you, I know the last time you showered,” Steve swore. But he was unbuckling his belt and fuck, fuck. Richie’s dick jolted as he rushed to rip his jeans the rest of the way off. Yes, daddy. Let’s fuck me good.

“You know I do a better set after you fuck me,” Richie pointed out. “It’s like, you’re protecting your fucking paycheck.”

“Great, so that makes me a whore, thanks, Rich,” Steve pointed out. But the bed dipped with his weight and Richie threw a bottle of lube and a condom back at him.

Fun fact: if you pressed your face into the pillow, no one could see that you were crying. Richie figured that trick out years ago.

* * *

Eddie gazed down at Richie. He was naked; he was beautiful. They were both naked, actually, but Richie was more focused on Eddie’s nudity, and how beautiful he was in this moment. In every moment. His whole life, the whole time Richie had ever known him and all those years in between when Richie’d forgotten him. Beautiful. Beautiful.

“Okay, seriously dude, you sure you want _me_ to fuck _you_?”

“Listen Ed, if we’re both bottoms then you better get in that giant fucking escalade of yours and drive straight back into Myra’s waiting embrace because we’re fucked. Or, more technically, _not_ fucked.”

“I didn’t say I was a fucking bottom!” Eddie snapped. “I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing here because I haven’t fucked my way through Chicago’s closeted stand-up comedy circuit, fuck!”

“I think you’re calling me a big slut but I’ll let it go if it means you’ve got all that out of your system and are going to _fuck me_ _tonight, Eds_.”

“Look I fucking _am_ I just…”

Eddie hissed, actually sat there on his fucking hands and knees straddling Richie, dicks both erect and straining at each other, and _hissed like a feral cat_ in frustration.

Richie stared up at him, going through a religious fucking experience as his entire body screamed with how much he loved this feral bastard.

“Look, I already fingered myself open, your dick is hard, it’s tab-A-into-slot-A simplicity at this point, Eds.”

“Okay, okay.” Eddie wiped a shaking hand across his sweaty forehead as he peered down between them, at their dicks. He kept starting to move—his hand, his knees, his chest—before stopping and returning to his same position, straddling Richie on his hands and knees, staring down at their dicks. “Okay, I’m just going to- …hm. Okay, I just- … Okay. So I- …nn.”

“Oh my fucking _sweet merciful Zeus, Eddie, I swear_ -”

“I just think it would be easier if we did this doggy style!”

Richie rolled his eyes and batted at Eddie’s arms. “Put your arms down, put your arms down you manic pixie dreamboat.”

“Hey-” Eddie protested, though it was clear he wasn’t sure why he should be offended by that—only that he _definitely_ should.

Richie slung his legs over Eddie’s shoulders, scooting his ass up until his asshole was fully presented to Eddie, sloppy and loose and ready for little Eddie to _get inside it right this fucking second_.

Eddie blinked, some of the lines in his forehead smoothing. “Oh.”

“Ready?”

Eddie smiled, finally, though it was still nervous. He giggled a little, and fuck: could Richie love him any more? Richie grinned up at him.

“Alright, enormous Ed-”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Eddie grumbled.

“Give it to me good.”

Eddie held the base of the condom as he lined up, and slowly— _excruciatingly slowly, fuck_ , what were they _teaching_ straight boys in college these days, holy _shit_ —pushed inside. Richie’s eyes fell closed against his will, the slide of Eddie’s dick inside of him, the firm, thick, _push_ of it overwhelming him, until it was all he could do to just _feel_ it, all he wanted to do was sit here, exist in it, his being and person narrowed down to being a hole filled with Eddie K’s dick inside it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” they both said, at exactly the same time. Richie opened his eyes and met Eddie’s. They devolved into a fit of giggles, Eddie’s head falling until their foreheads knocked.

“Oof, fuck, I should have done more yoga,” Richie complained as he reached for his thighs, holding them up. “Meaning, any yoga, ya know, like even one class.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, no, this is great, this is exactly how I want it, I’m just a stiff old man,” Richie laughed. And then Eddie moved inside him—just rocked back and forth, testing the waters—and the rest of Richie’s jokes died on his lips at the feeling. He grabbed for Eddie, hand landing somewhere in the middle of Eddie’s back and holding on for dear life.

“Fuck, Eds-”

Eddie’s face was creased deep in concentration as he started moving, at first just _grinding_ into Richie, then testing out slow, _dragging_ thrusts. It was all Richie could do to just. Hold on and _moan_.

“Holy shit you feel good,” Eddie grunted, eyes squeezed shut against the sensation. Richie grinned, fucking his hips down into Eddie’s hips.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah…” Eddie opened his eyes, looking almost dazed. Then his gaze met Richie’s and he grinned, and.

Richie’s head swam. He didn’t… He didn’t know he could feel like this. Be like this. With someone. Eddie fucked into him slow, holding his gaze. Richie’s breath stuttered out of him. Eddie. Eddie. “ _Eddie_.”

“Yeah, Rich?”

Richie could only shake his head. Oh no. Oh no.

He grabbed Eddie, dragging him down for a searing kiss. Eddie bent down gladly, squishing Richie practically in half, but Richie was extremely fucking okay with that, if it meant keeping himself hidden from the intensity of Eddie’s big doe eyes. Eddie gasped, and whispered into Richie’s mouth: “Fuck, Richie. I can’t believe how good this feels.”

“Fuck me,” Richie urged, nonsensically. But he meant, harder, meaner, faster. Fuck him, use him. Don’t… don’t do _this_.

Don’t make _love_ to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie murmured, like he was getting at least some of Richie’s meaning. His hips picked up their pace, and they hugged each other, clinging tight as the sound of their hips _slap slap slapping_ filled Richie’s bedroom. Richie turned his head and buried it into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He could get through this without embarrassing himself. He could, he just had to. Focus on Eddie’s dick, Eddie’s _incredible_ dick, just pounding the jizz right out of Richie.

“We’re so fucking lucky,” Eddie whispered into Richie’s ear. “We’re so fucking lucky.”

Richie tried to muffle a sob into Eddie’s shoulder, but Eddie heard him anyway and started to pull back. “Richie?”

“No, it’s good, Eddie, c’mon.” Richie hoped Eddie would ascribe the breathy, throaty quality of his voice to arousal and not, uh. Crying like a fucking baby. To underscore his words Richie grabbed Eddie’s ass and tugged him closer, rolling his hips as he urged Eddie to move, to push harder, to fuck him deeper.

“You’re okay?” Eddie panted by his ear. Eddie kept trying to pull back, to get a look at him, but Richie wasn’t letting him, keeping his face buried in the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“You’re-” Richie tried to say _perfect_. Tried to get the word out. But all he managed was “perf-” before his voice cracked, and a sob bubbled up from his throat.

“Fuck, shit, sorry-” Eddie started to lift off him, and even worse, started to _pull out_. Richie grabbed his ass and held on for dear life, pinning Eddie in place.

“No, Eds-”

“Fuck, sorry, shit shit, look, I don’t know what I’m doing, we can just do hand stuff-”

“No it’s good Eddie, please-”

“ _Fuck_ , Richie, you’re _crying_!”

Because now Eddie had struggled back far enough to see Richie’s _face_ , and his stupid, stupid _eyes_ , and Richie was blubbering like it was his first time all over again. Richie shook his head emphatically, pressing one big hand over both eyes as he struggled for composure. He breathed deep through his nose.

“No, Eds. Look. I’m _fine_. Look!” He lifted his hand from his eyes, blinking wide and smiling. Eddie stared down at him in horror.

“What the absolute fuck, is that supposed to reassure me? You look psychotic. _And_ you’re still crying.”

“Look it’s not like it’s the first time!” Richie snapped.

Eddie sat back on his heels.

Fuck him. That wasn’t what he… Fuck.

“Rich-”

“I love you,” Richie admitted, broken and humiliated. Eddie’s expression cracked open in front of him. Richie buried his hands in his hair, knees curled up to his chest.

“You fucking idiot,” Eddie cursed. He reached out and shoved Richie’s shoulder. “You fucking _dick_. I love you too, I’ve loved you since you fucking pulled me out of my locker and made some stupid fucking joke about how I should run away and join those Romanian contortionist kids or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Armenian,” Richie remembered, just like that. He wiped at his eyes and took a shaking breath. “They were Armenian. Fuck, I remember that, and I forgot you for twenty-seven years.”

“I loved you, and I forgot you for twenty-seven years, too,” Eddie reminded him. Then he leapt forward and dragged Richie in for a kiss. Richie collapsed on top of him, shoving Eddie down, down.

“Think you can ride me without crying?” Eddie teased. And he was such a little _shit_ , and he had that fucking _grin_ , and that was it. That was the boy Richie’d loved since before he knew what love was.

Richie immediately started crying again, and Eddie laughed at him. And then Richie climbed on top and rode him, because Richie was nothing if not a fucking multi-tasker, _Edward_.

* * *

Eddie was waiting for him.

Richie still kind of couldn’t believe that he lived in a world where Eddie would be waiting for him.

Richie scooped Eddie up, Eddie grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him, face split wide in a smile.

“You totally bombed; worst set you’ve ever done.”

Richie beamed and dove in for a kiss. Eddie was smiling on the other side of it, but kept trying to play at the critic.

“Did you hear me booing you? Not sure if you could distinguish me from all the other disappointed fans-”

Richie just smiled and smiled down at Eddie. He still had his arms around him, and Eddie’s hands had settled somewhere on Richie’s elbows. Richie squeezed him gently. “Am I trending?”

Eddie snorted. “Oh, no, you didn’t hear? They’re filing articles of impeachment against Trump, you’re bottom of the fucking twitter news cycle right now. Sucks to be you.”

“Mmm, well now that you _mention_ it…” Richie murmured.

Eddie snorted and started shoving his way out of Richie’s embrace.

“In your fucking dreams. C’mon, let’s get your shit and you can go sign autographs for like. Ben.”

“What landed the best?” Richie asked as they walked together—together!!—back to the green room.

“Everything about how great I am,” Eddie deadpanned. “I think you need more material like that. In fact, maybe that should be your whole act. How attractive I am, how good I am at sex, what a responsible pet owner I am…”

Richie didn’t even realize it was coming. Because somehow, _somehow_ , Eddie was still managing to surprise him. When the green room door clicked shut Eddie turned on him, pinning Richie to the door with a searing kiss. His hand was already on—nope, in, his hand was _in_ Richie’s jeans, already stroke his dick, _ho_ boy-!

Richie found himself pressing flat against the door and just. Holding on. For dear life.

When Eddie dropped to his knees Richie’s fingers scrambled over the doorjamb, afraid he was going to faint.

“Is this actually happening?” Richie mumbled to himself as he watched Eddie, still totally clothed, manhandle Richie’s dick out of his jeans. Eddie licked his lips and Richie’s dick twitched _hard_ , swelling upright before their very eyes.

“One night only,” Eddie warned him.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Richie whispered, even as Eddie took him in his mouth. Richie wanted to drop his head back against the door and shut his eyes, except, never: not when it was Eddie, not when he could look down and watch Eddie K struggle to fit Richie’s dick in his mouth, determined little frown between his eyebrows as he worked his way further and further down over Richie’s dick with every bob of his head. Richie swallowed thickly.

Eddie popped off his dick for a moment to catch his breath, stroking it in one hand. He glanced up at Richie.

“First show.”

Then he dipped back down and slurped his way back down Richie’s dick.

And, _oh_. He-

Richie had meant like, generally, what had he done to deserve Eddie. Not this specific moment, not Eddie sucking his dick in a green room after his show, but like, Eddie as a human being, Eddie as his boyfriend, Eddie existing in his life as the five foot eight (he _was_ , fucking liar) manic demon perfect asshole that he was.

But _Eddie_ thought he’d meant tonight, right now. This blowie in a green room. And he’d answered ‘first show.’

Because tonight had been Richie’s big coming out show. It’d been the first show where Richie had admitted he was in love with a man, that he lived with a man, that he loved getting his fucking dick sucked (look! Right now! Just like this!) by a man, and that man was Edward Kaspbrak and the impossible, beautiful love of his life.

Eddie was blowing him in a green room because he was _proud_ of Richie. Because Richie had stepped out and told the world “I’m Richie Trashmouth Tozier and I’m deeply, ridiculously, stupidly in love with a five-foot-eight risk analyst demon-spawn who hasn’t beat me in an arm wrestling contest once in his fucking life and still challenges me to one every chance he gets because it’s an excuse to hold hands and look into each other’s eyes and actually I’m pretty sure he still _thinks_ he could because he’s a delusional walking Napoleon complex and I love him, I love that crazy bastard, his name his Edward Kaspbrak and one day we’re going to get married and he’ll have a fucking step-stool at the altar.”

That’s why Eddie was sucking his dick in a green room.

Richie knocked his glasses up to his forehead so he could slap a hand over his eyes. A minute later Eddie pulled off his dick again, breathing heavily.

“Are you fucking crying?”

“No,” Richie sobbed, sobbingly, through tears.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Tozier. You’ve got fans to meet.”

“Then you shouldn’t have blown me before! You know how I get!” Richie moaned.

Eddie was laughing, Eddie was _wheezing_ laughing as he grabbed at Richie’s arm.

“Help me up, fucking hell, my fucking knees, why did I even try-”

Richie reached down an arm and Eddie used it to climb his way up Richie’s body.

“-too fucking old for this. Come here.”

They kissed, Richie pretty desperate, Eddie a little sloppy and too wet (and with dick-breath, but it was Richie’s dick-breath so he couldn’t really complain). Richie pushed Eddie backwards so they stepped away from the door, and eventually found their way to collapsing on the couch together.

“I wanted to blow you so there’d be no mess,” Eddie explained.

“We could sixty-nine,” Richie suggested, but he said it while licking his tongue into Eddie’s mouth so he could hardly be taken seriously. Now that he had Eddie here on the couch with them they both knew Richie wasn’t letting him go for anything. Even sixty-nineing.

“Are you done crying?” Eddie asked.

“Maybe,” Richie admitted. He breathed and stared at the ceiling. “I just gotta not think about it.”

“What even set you off?” Eddie asked. While he lay there on top of Richie’s chest, his hand had worked its way between them and was absently stroking Richie’s spit-slick dick.

Richie’s eyes watered and even he had to start laughing at himself, even through the tears. “Well fuck, Eds: it’s always you, isn’t it?”

“I _mean_ ,” Eddie twisted his wrist, squeezing a little tighter. Richie gasped, little “uh-uh’s!” of warning slipping from his throat as Eddie grinned down at him. “Was it anything more specific this time?”

Richie kissed Eddie, just to shut him up.

“If I tell you I’m going to start crying again,” Richie admitted.

“Fine.” And with that, Eddie slipped down Richie’s body until he could suck his dick back into his mouth.

Richie hissed, grabbing Eddie’s hair as he bobbed up and down over Richie’s dick.

“Fuck, yeah, Eds.” Richie fucked himself into Eddie’s mouth a little bit, though he kept his eye on Eddie’s, watching for the warning look Eddie would give him if he was being too rough. Eddie didn’t stand for any nonsense while he was sucking dick.

Fuck Richie loved that asshole so much.

Eddie’s hand slipped down to play with Richie’s balls as he sucked, and Richie moaned lowly, head throwing back as he enjoyed the dual sensation. After a minute he tapped at Eddie’s head.

“Hey, hey. Can you-”

Eddie shot Richie an annoyed look—or, as annoyed as anyone could look while sucking a dick (why was that so hot? Was Richie sick in the head? _Fuck_ , Eddie giving him that little _look_ , that “I’m so over your bullshit, Richie Tozier” _look_ with Richie’s dick in his mouth, _fuck_ , slap that on a poster and frame it, Richie could spend the rest of his _life_ jacking to the memory of that look) but reached a hand up, pushing his fingers into Richie’s mouth. Richie’s eyes fluttered closed as he sucked on Eddie’s fingers, getting them nice and wet. When Eddie pulled them away Richie chased after them, forgetting himself for half a second. Eddie pulled off his dick just long enough to laugh at him.

“Oral fixation much?”

“Who’s the one with a dick in his mouth?” Richie shot back.

“Fuck you,” Eddie replied, uncreatively.

“Yeah, please, thanks?” Richie had meant for it to be a joke but it just came out kind of breathy and desperate. Ugh, if he hadn’t just been crying he’d have some dignity left to feel shame. Lucky him, he cried constantly.

Eddie bent back down to take his dick into his mouth, at the same time rubbing his spit-slick fingers over Richie’s hole. Richie groaned, fucking himself up into his mouth, then down against the fingers. The fourth or fifth time Eddie finally let his fingers slip in, giving Richie that full feeling he craved. Richie groaned louder, ignoring the look Eddie was giving him to keep it quiet.

“Fuck, Eddie, yeah, fuck me…”

Eddie thrust his fingers into Richie in time with his head bobbing over his dick. Richie threw his head back, overwhelmed by the sensation of getting sucked and fucked, so perfectly in rhythm, Eddie’s coordination unparalleled. His orgasm grew, stomach twitching as he got closer. He tapped at Eddie’s head.

“Fuck, hey, where are the tissues…”

Eddie ignored him and kept on sucking.

Richie realized what he meant about thirty seconds before his orgasm hit him. And then, actually, realizing what was happening turned him on so much he just came right there, remaining thirty seconds be damned. “Fuck, Eds-” Richie grabbed onto Eddie’s hair as he fucked himself into Eddie’s mouth, jizzing straight down his throat.

“Fuuuuckkkk,” Richie moaned, noodling back onto the couch, one arm and leg hanging onto the floor as he stared up at the ceiling.

Hey, at least he wasn’t crying anymore.

Eddie was up, rummaging around the green room. There was a sink, and Eddie was using it, spitting and gurgling. Did he have mouthwash? Richie grinned up at the ceiling as he listened to this dumbass, the love of his life, rinsing the cum out of his mouth.

He just loved him _so much_. Richie laughed and rubbed at his eyes, telling himself he _couldn’t fucking cry again_ , he needed to go meet some fans and be the victim of a hate crime or whatever else was about to happen.

“Holy fuck, I kind of forgot I just came out on stage,” Richie mused.

“Stop trying to flatter me,” Eddie called over his shoulder. He was washing his hands now, because of course he was.

How had Richie even stayed in the closet this long all he wanted to talk about all the time was how much he loved this neurotic little troll?

“Holy fuck I need to go smile at a bunch of people who are going to spit in my face,” Richie groaned, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.

“Your manager is weeding out all the MAGA asshats right now,” Eddie told him. He turned around, drying his hands on a paper towel. “You want me out there? I’ll kick anybody’s ass you tell me to. That way you don’t sued for assault.”

Richie beamed as he levered himself up from the couch, slapping his glasses back on. “No you fucking wouldn’t.”

“No I wouldn’t, of course I fucking wouldn’t, you think _I_ want to get sued? Or arrested?! I’m not going to jail for assault, Richie, I hope you know that about me.”

“I expect nothing less,” Richie agreed. He was standing above Eddie now, beaming down at him. “Love of my fucking life.” Eddie’s whole face wrinkled up.

“Ungh. Don’t get sappy on me.”

“Oh sure: you love it when I’m pledging myself to you heart and soul in front of a thousand people, but when I tell you I love you backstage it’s all ‘gross, feelings.’”

Eddie laughed meanly and gestured around at the empty greenroom. “Do you _see_ any paying customers back here? Of fucking _course_ I only want you to do it onstage. When you do it onstage it’s all part of building your brand, making that green.”

“‘Green?’” Richie giggled.

Eddie slid closer, poking his index finger into Richie’s chest. “You’re just a meal ticket for me, Tozier. Don’t you forget it.”

Richie hummed and slid his hands around Eddie’s waist. “I think that makes me your sugar daddy,” Richie pointed out. He grinned. “Would you like a treat from daddy-”

Eddie shut Richie up with a kiss. Then he spun him around, slapped his ass, and pushed him out the door.

“Get out that and earn that paycheck,” Eddie ordered him.

Except, just as Richie went to open the door, Eddie grabbed his wrist and pulled him half-back. Eddie’s big doe eyes were serious as Richie turned to look at him.

“Eds?”

“You’re the bravest man I know,” Eddie whispered: fierce, angry. Like someone was going to try and take it from them.

Richie’s breath hitched. “You can’t say that right before I have to go out there,” he whined.

“I love you. Dick.”

Richie kissed Eddie, and Eddie kissed Richie, and then Eddie let go of his wrist and nodded back at the door.

“See you soon. And you owe me, tonight.”

“Already working out a plan to make it up to you,” Richie promised.

He checked his fly. Then he stepped outside.

* * *

“Fuck, fuck-” Richie hissed. He reached back to grab Eddie’s ass, hold on for dear fucking _life_ as Eddie gave him the fucking he _deserved_.

Eddie scraped his fingernails down Richie’s spine, causing Richie to hiss and arch up into him, tears pricking the corners of his eyes with how good it felt. His dick jolted as Eddie kept his fingers trailing down, spreading his crack, thumbing at his rim just above where his dick was still relentlessly pounding into him.

“Fuck you’re spread out for me,” Eddie told him. Richie moaned and shook his head like a dog.

“Yeah I am, yes, I’m a slut for your fucking dick, Eds.”

Behind him Eddie laughed, hips not stuttering for a damn minute because of course they didn’t, Eddie was a _pro_.

Then he smacked Richie’s ass and Richie’s elbows collapsed out from beneath him, sending him sprawling on their mattress. Eddie laughed and cursed at him, even as he scrambled to hold Richie’s ass up.

“Oh my fucking _Eds_ , you have to _warn me_ ,” Richie moaned, mouth open and drooling against the mattress.

“You sure?” Eddie teased. “What if I just…”

Even though Richie was ready for it, the next slap of Eddie’s hand turned his knees to jelly. The only thing that kept his ass in prime fucking position was Eddie holding him up with one big, strong hand. Richie’s dick _leaked_ , pubes a gross fucking mess of precome. Oh, fuck. He was so sloppy for Eddie’s dick.

“What’s wrong, Eddie? Have I been bad?” Richie moaned into the mattress. Behind him Eddie grunted—a certain, particular grunt that Richie knew was Eddie trying not to laugh.

He fucking loved that grunt. He loved Eddie trying not to laugh around him. Because Eddie never managed to hold out. Not forever.

“Of course you’ve fucking been bad.”

“Am I your naughty boy?”

Another not-laugh grunt. Eddie was going to lose it, soon. But then he slapped Richie again and Richie’s dick _jolted_ with the sharp sting of it, and he kind of forgot they were joking around because of how fucking hot this all was and how much it was working for him.

“You’ve been a _bad_ boy, Richie Tozier.” Another _slap_. Richie moaned and arched back, begging with his ass for another.

“Yeah I have. Spank me, daddy,” Richie begged.

Eddie obliged, one, two, three hard slaps that left Richie reeling, lightheaded with how badly he needed to come. On the fourth he reached down and grabbed his dick, squeezing the base to stave off orgasm. Eddie misinterpreted the maneuver and spanked him again.

“Did I say you could come?”

“I’m not, Eds, I’m-”

“What’d you call me?”

Richie nearly blacked out.

“I’m sorry. Daddy.”

“That’s right.” Eddie spanked him again. Richie dropped his hands to the mattress, fisting the sheets between his fingers. His mouth lolled open, soaked the sheets with his drool.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Richie moaned again, nonsensically. But it got Eddie to spank him again, and, oh, fuck, yes, that’s… that was all he wanted, he just… just a little more…

“Please, please, Daddy. Harder-”

He meant he wanted Eddie to fuck him harder, but Eddie misunderstood and switched hands, spanking him hard twice with his other hand. Tears sprang to Richie’s eyes and, fuck, _fuck_ , he hadn’t wanted to cry tonight, he had _promised_ himself he wouldn’t, because-

“Do you want to come?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Richie gasped, rutting backwards madly against Eddie’s dick. Eddie grunted, fingers digging into Richie’s hips.

“That’s it. Fuck yourself on my dick, fuck. You’re such a slut for it.”

“I love it, I love it,” Richie moaned. Fuck, he needed to come, he needed to come, _please_ make him come…

Eddie fucked him hard, breath hitching as he got close.

“I’m gonna come inside you,” Eddie told him. “Fill you up with daddy’s come. You want that?”

“Please, please daddy,” Richie begged, crying. “Please. Make me sloppy with your come, please. I want it so bad, I want it inside me.”

Eddie’s grip was painfully tight on Richie’s hips as he fucked himself to the finish line. “Gonna paint your insides,” he grunted. “Fuck, Richie-”

“I need to come,” Richie gasped.

“Fuck, fuck, how close-”

“Spank me, jerk me, anything-”

Eddie smacked Richie’s ass _hard_ , three, four times, “You better fucking come before me or daddy’s going to punish you-” and _fuck_ , Richie was coming _hard_ , untouched, jizz painting the fucking sheets and causing the _worst_ wet spot, Eddie was going to be so pissed.

“ _Fuck, Eds_!” Richie shouted, and Eddie, fucking gentleman that he was, reached around and jerked Richie through the aftershocks, squeezing the last drops of come from his dick with his big fist. Then his hand was sliding back on Richie’s hip, smearing come into his skin as Eddie swore and buried himself to the hilt in Richie’s ass. Richie moaned and squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling out as Eddie fulfilled his promise and came deep inside him.

Eddie fell off, and Richie rolled away from his wet spot, so they were cuddling on Eddie’s side of the bed. Eddie started rubbing compulsively at Richie’s arms and back as soon as Richie glommed himself onto Eddie’s side as they both caught their breath. After a minute Eddie reached down and pulled Richie in for a sloppy, post-orgasmic series of kisses that were at least fifty percent just licking into each other’s mouths.

“You okay?” Eddie asked. He was wiping at Richie’s cheeks as he said it. Richie groaned and kissed his worries away.

“You fucking kidding me?”

“I don’t know where that came from,” Eddie admitted.

“Me neither, but fuck yes.”

“You’re crying,” Eddie mumbled, vaguely concerned.

“Fuck, what else is new?” Richie groaned. He kissed Eddie again, reassuring him with his overly enthusiastic tongue.

“Yeah but is this like, normal Richie crying over like, oh shit, we just went into a weird kinky place and I spanked you and you called me _daddy_ , fuck, that was really hot and you can _never tell anyone_ I think that’s hot, Richie, I fucking swear, I’ll divorce you.”

“Can’t divorce me until you marry me,” Richie reminded him. And suddenly his eyes were wet for an entirely different reason, and fuck. _This_ was why he hadn’t wanted to cry tonight.

Richie stole a glance up at Eddie’s expression, worried he’d said too much. But Eddie’s eyes were closed and he was smiling softly.

“Right, of course. I’ll make sure to marry you just so I can divorce you, then. Remind me to do that.”

A sob hiccuped out of his throat before Richie could stop it. Eddie’s eyes opened and he glanced down at Richie. He started to push himself upright, little frown line of concern forming between his eyebrows.

“Hey, shit, Richie, you okay? I knew it, see, this is why you’re supposed to negotiate kinks beforehand or whatever, look-”

“It’s not the fucking spanking, Jesus Eds, you’re so fucking vanilla, I’m not losing my shit because you spanked my ass and made me call you daddy.” Richie wiped at his eyes and smiled wetly up at Eddie. “Which, by the way: hottest fucking sex of my life, we’re doing that again, I’m gonna get myself a collar that says ‘daddy’s little cumslut.’”

“Oh my God, please, no,” Eddie begged. But he still pushed himself up so he was sitting against the headboard, and wiped a thumb across Richie’s cheek to capture a tear tracking down.

“It’s _not_ the fucking spanking, Eddie, I swear.”

“You haven’t cried in a while,” Eddie pointed out.

“I cried last Tuesday.”

“Okay but that was because you got that job and I made the mistake of telling you I was proud of you during sex.”

Richie sniffed loudly and wiped at his eyes. “Yeah what the fuck, total dick move.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, but he was grinning, and _so_ not sorry.

Fuck. He was going to have to do it right now. Eddie was going to _kill_ him. But Eddie was smiling at him, sorry-not-sorry, beautiful and flushed, smelling like b.o. and sex, dick still wet and hair sticking up every which way, glowing with the satisfaction of just having fucked Richie to within an inch of his _life_. How could it _not_ be now? How could Eddie hold it against him? Richie breathed deep and rubbed the heels of his hands over both eyes in a futile attempt to clean himself up.

Richie rolled away to his side of the bed, jerking open his nightstand drawer and grabbing the box he had tucked away inside, all the way in the back so Eddie wouldn’t accidentally see it. Richie rolled back and gestured at Eddie, finally grabbing his wrist when Eddie didn’t get what he was too choked up to get out. Richie slapped the box into Eddie’s upturned palm and drew a deep breath.

“I keep fucking thinking about it and it’s making me all,” he swept broad fingers in front of his own tear-stained face, “so here. Just take it. Otherwise I’m going to be fucking chronically dehydrated by the time I finally work up the courage, so.”

Eddie stared dumbly at the ring in his palm, for once in his damn life at a loss for words. Richie sniffed loudly and wiped at his eyes. He pushed himself upright, and Eddie followed, so they were both sitting up in bed. Richie’s knees were pulled up, forearms draped over them. Eddie was still kind of curled up against Richie, legs tucked sideways, as he stared at the ring. After a moment he pulled it out of the box, and Richie’s body bled tension as his and Eddie’s eyes met.

“Richie.”

Richie swallowed past the golfball in his throat. “If you hate it we can pick out another one.”

Reaching forward with the hand still holding the ring, Eddie cupped Richie’s cheek and pulled him in for a long, tender kiss. They didn’t pull apart when the kiss ended, foreheads pressed together and Eddie’s hand stroking gently at Richie’s cheek.

“You’re going to make _me_ cry,” Eddie complained, huffing softly against Richie’s lips.

“Fucking impossible, you’re like, completely dead inside.”

“Am not,” Eddie whined.

“Are so.”

Richie closed his eyes and ignored the tears tracking down his cheeks, because that was just par for the course. Eddie nudged him and Richie opened his eyes to see Eddie holding the ring out to him.

“Come on. Do it right.”

Richie breathed deep and plucked the ring from between Eddie’s fingers. It was a good ring—Bev had helped him pick it out. Tungsten and kind of cool looking, but pretty simple. Bev had reassured Richie that Eddie was a simple kind of guy.

“Edward Kaspbrak. I can’t make a real speech because I’m just going to-” Richie’s voice cracked, then failed him. He waved generally at his face and throat as Eddie laughed softly and held him. He finally managed a shuddering breath before rushing on: “so, okay, you get it. Marry me?”

“So romantic,” Eddie teased.

“I love you more than anything,” Richie managed to get out, even as tears tracked down his face. Eddie kissed him, and as they sat there with their foreheads pressed together, Richie whispered: “I waited for you for thirty years.”

“I know,” Eddie reassured him. They kissed again, and when they pulled apart Eddie was _almost_ misty-eyed. Richie took it as a victory.

“C’mon, Eds,” Richie reminded him. “You made me do the hard shit and now you’re going to forget your line?”

Eddie shook himself. “Right: yes. Of course yes, give me that ring. And you can tell Bev I love it.”

Richie ignored the dig at his own good taste because, well, Eddie was right, and slipped the ring onto Eddie’s finger. They fell to kissing some more.

“You fucking asshole,” Eddie mumbled into his mouth.

“Yeah, I know,” Richie said, because he did know. He knew exactly what Eddie was going to say.

“I’m _never_ going to be able to tell our engagement story, now.”

There it was.

“We can make something up,” Richie told him.

“And now I have to eat you out.”

“Wait, what?”

And then Eddie grabbed Richie and flipped him over and Richie basically forgot his own name for the next hour. Or two.

* * *

Eddie collapsed into their bed, one arm already slung over his eyes, just wanting it to. Fucking _end_ already.

In a rare event, Richie snuck into their bedroom shortly after Eddie collapsed, climbing into bed and reaching out to Eddie.

“Are they-?”

“Everyone is sleeping, shh,” Richie reassured him.

Eddie groaned and let himself be pulled into Richie’s embrace.

“Madeline-”

“Has the mittens on so she can’t scratch in her sleep and is knocked out cold.”

“Stevie’s topped off on penicillin and Nyquil,” Eddie said, just to mentally tick it off. He lifted his head to look up at Richie. Absently he noticed Richie was still wearing his glasses. “She’s going to need to get her tonsils out, you know. This is the third time this year, and it’s only June-”

“Tomorrow’s problem, Dr. K,” Richie shushed him. His hand stroked down Eddie’s arm, soothing him in soft, steady strokes. Eddie shivered beneath his touch. Somehow he still shivered beneath Richie’s touch, all these years later.

“I feel so bad,” Eddie admitted. “Jean’s having the worst time of it-”

“It’s been two days,” Richie reminded him. “And she’s eaten her body weight in Jell-O and ice cream. She’s having a great time.”

“She was crying this afternoon-”

“Her throat hurts and she’s all hopped up on meds. She’s going to be fine. They’re all going to be fine.”

Eddie breathed through his nose and closed his eyes, practicing smoothing out the frown between his eyebrows. After a moment Richie shifted and Eddie felt his thumb press between Eddie’s eyebrows, smoothing away those lines. Eddie sighed as Richie gently massaged at his eyebrows, then temples.

“I’m too exhausted to fuck you,” Eddie told him, as Richie’s hands continued to roam.

“I know babe, shh.”

Eddie was too tired to even chastise Richie for calling him “babe.”

Then, contrary to his word, Richie’s hand dipped between them, rubbing gently (but purposefully) against Eddie’s boxer shorts.

“Richie-”

Richie kissed him, quenching any fight Eddie had left in him from the day from hell (week from hell, more like). Eddie sighed and kissed back, Richie’s hand rubbing an insistent rhythm against the front of Eddie’s boxers.

“You make me come and I’m gonna pass right out,” Eddie warned him. “You’ll have to fuck my comatose body to get off.”

Richie’s lips curled into a grin against Eddie’s. “I can get into that,” he mused. He pulled back long enough to spit into his hand—ugh, but—before reaching back down and dipping it beneath the waistband of Eddie’s boxers. Eddie breathed through his nose again, harder this time, as Richie worked his dick with wet, firm strokes.

“Lay back, daddy,” Richie murmured into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie giggled, a little punchy.

“ _Don’t_ call me that, fuck. What a Pavlovian nightmare.”

Richie slid down Eddie’s body, tugging at his boxers. Eddie sighed and dropped his arm back over his eyes. Richie’s mouth slid over him and Eddie’s breath turned shaky. Richie’s hands were warm and strong on his thighs, holding him open as he worked his mouth down his shaft.

Eddie hummed his approval, even as he tried to focus everything on Richie (expertly) sucking his dick. Forget about the three sick kids in his house, the doctor’s appointments that needed scheduling, the appointments that were already on the books. Just think about Richie, and his mouth, that wet-

“Fuck, hang on-” Eddie groaned, pushing Richie away. “I forgot to grab Jean-”

“Bed-side glass of water, I took care of it,” Richie interrupted him. He held tight to Eddie’s thighs, pinning him in place. “Lay down.”

Eddie groaned and flopped back onto his pillow. “O… kay. Okay. I think that was it, sorry. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Richie told him, even as he leaned down to take Eddie’s length back in his mouth. He tongued at the head, bobbed up and down a few times, before pulling back and smiling lopsidedly up at Eddie. “But don’t worry about it. I got it.”

As he licked a stripe from root to tip before stuffing his mouth full of Eddie’s length once more, Eddie found his chest getting tight. Heart attack? His face flushed, his eyes… stung.

Eddie realized what was happening about three seconds too late to do anything about it.

Even as Richie was going to _town_ on him, wet tightness enveloping Eddie’s dick, perfect rhythm for him to just lie there and feel like he was getting fucked good, Eddie was. Crying. His fucking eyes were betraying him and they were _leaking_ , like some sort of… like… like _Richie’s_ stupid fucking overactive eyes!

Oh, fucking. No.

Eddie kept his arm over his eyes and focused on the feel of Richie sucking him down. He thrust up into Richie’s mouth a couple times, but Richie’s hands on his thighs kept him mostly stationary. Eddie just had to lie there and let Richie take care of him.

Carefully Eddie opened his mouth, breathing as softly as he could through it. Fuck, fuck.

Richie didn’t notice for _almost_ long enough. Eddie was getting close, and Richie could tell he was getting close without Eddie having to say anything, thank fuck. But then Richie pulled back and jerked at Eddie’s dick as he caught his breath.

“Hey just go ahead and come in my mouth, okay? You know I don’t care and it’ll save us- Eddie?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, brightly. He kept his arm over his eyes.

“Eds, you…” Richie’s hand hesitated in its smooth rhythm over Eddie’s dick.

“C’mon, Richie, I’m close. Finish me up.” When Richie didn’t say anything right away Eddie swallowed carefully and continued: “Hey, yeah, lemme come in your mouth-”

Eddie’s arm was ripped away from his eyes and he found himself forced to blink through tears up at Richie’s giant bespeckled eyes.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?”

He wished Richie hadn’t asked. He could have gotten through this if Richie hadn’t _acknowledged_ it. But now that he had-

A sob tore its way out of Eddie’s throat and he tried to shove Richie off him, roll to the side.

“Eds-!”

“I’m _fine_!” Eddie shoved at Richie again. Why was he so fucking _big_? Ridiculous gangly giant, there was no way Eddie could shove him off if Richie didn’t want to move. “Richie. Get off.”

“Fuck, Eddie, I’m…”

“Can you stop talking about it?” Eddie sniffed. But it was like, an angry sniff. “For fuck’s sake, you cry like, every other time we have sex.”

“Yeah but… _you_ …”

“Can we _please_ -”

To Eddie’s surprise, Richie didn’t gloat or, worse, try to comfort him. Instead, after a moment of staring down strangely at Eddie, he dropped back down to Eddie’s groin and took him into his mouth. A surprised sob wrenched itself from Eddie’s mouth as Richie worked at him. He pulled off with a gasp, just to attack Eddie’s balls: sucking them into his mouth, getting them all sloppy wet, playing with them just how Eddie liked. They _popped_ from his mouth, one, two. Eddie moaned and thrust up, getting into it, maybe getting into it enough to stop fucking _crying_.

“I fucking love you so much,” Richie swore as he moved back up to suck down Eddie’s dick.

A muffled sob surprised its way out of Eddie at that declaration, _fuck_. It was almost like-

Oh no.

Richie pulled off for breath again—the fucker, he did _not_ need to breathe that much—jerking Eddie’s dick loosely as he smiled up at him from between his legs.

“You’re such a good dad,” Richie told him.

Eddie shuddered, tears tracking down his cheeks. What the _fuck_.

“This week has been hell and you’ve handled it all like my Dream Daddy (T-M). I don’t know how you do it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie managed to croak out, between deep, shuddering breaths.

“I love you,” Richie whispered into the side of Eddie’s dick, before he dipped his head again and sucked him down.

Eddie kind of never understood how Richie could cry and come at the same time. Up until now. Now, he was getting a first-hand experience with exactly what that felt like, and wow, thanks, he hated it. Eddie wiped at his face and tried not to think about how wonderful Richie was being, and how much he loved him. Instead he just focused on Richie’s mouth, the heat of it, the wetness, the way Richie was tonguing at the head of his dick, fuck, Eddie loved that.

Except then Richie pulled off, lapping at the head of his dick. He looked up, catching and holding Eddie’s gaze.

“You know I’m like, in awe of you?” He sucked the head of Eddie’s dick into his mouth without breaking eye-contact. Eddie sobbed and slapped a hand over his mouth.

“You scheduled all the doctors’ appointments. You scheduled our daughter’s _surgery_ , and you fucking, you knew exactly what to do, what to say, not just to the doctors but to Jean, too. You made it fun for her, like it was just some big adventure.”

Eddie’s eyes were a blur of tears.

“Richie, please-”

“You made it seem like no big deal, like something fun and normal. When inside I’m screaming, because our daughter’s going in for _surgery_ , and you must be too, you _must_ be, but you never showed it. Not a hint. You’re a fucking hero, Eddie.” Richie bent down and slapped Eddie’s dick against his tongue, jerking him hard. “And now you’re going to come all over my face like the dirty boy I am.”

Eddie cried straight through his orgasm, painting Richie’s face with his come. As soon as Richie let go of him he rolled away, grabbing for the box of tissues he kept on his nightstand. He grabbed a handful for his face, then threw the box down at Richie in an implicit command to clean them both up.

As he predicted, as soon as Eddie was done wiping his own face dry, his eyes slid shut and he could feel himself drift off. He was half asleep by the time Richie laid down next to him, Eddie’s dick and his own face sufficiently cleaned off (to Richie’s standards, at least). Richie’s arms wrapped around him, and he pressed a kiss to the back of Eddie’s neck. Eddie shuddered, bone-deep weariness setting in. But the feeling in his chest, the constant frozen fire of fear and dread he’d been carrying with him, it was lighter than it had been in a week. In a month, even.

“Feel better?” Richie asked, nose nuzzling at the nape of Eddie’s neck.

Eddie hummed. He really, actually did. But he was also falling asleep, hard. And he was also never going to admit that crying during sex (just this _one_ time) made him feel better.

He’d leave the crying for Richie. He did enough for the both of them, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I need everyone to know about how I named their three daughters:
> 
> Richie got to name Stevie, and she's named after Steve Martin  
> Eddie got to name Madeline, and she's named after Madeline Kahn  
> And then they both had to name Jean, and she's named after those two gays' favorite X-Man, Jean Grey.
> 
> And no, they didn't think about how funny it was that they had a Madeline AND a Jean until Halloween one year when Richie realized the Ultimate Group Costume and Eddie vetoed putting their 2 year old daughter in a leather thong bathing suit HARD.


End file.
